


The Smallest One Was... Bucky's #1 Stan

by Faustess



Series: HHH Le Baguette [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Background Relationships, Baked Goods, Bread, Coffee, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Paris (City), Pre-Slash, Schoolgirls, Swearing, Unconventional Uses for Baked Goods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 23:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17538446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faustess/pseuds/Faustess
Summary: Bucky grudgingly agrees to be Steve's fake boyfriend in the hopes that someday his best friend will finally ask Natasha out on a real date.  You've heard what they say about the best laid plans?  Well, these two didn't.Meanwhile, a small Catholic girl's school is using the Avengers as an example for their studies on current events, global politics, and the sacrament of forgiveness.What happens when these two things intersect?  Hijinks, dear readers.  Hijinks and shenanigans.





	The Smallest One Was... Bucky's #1 Stan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rebelmeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/gifts), [justanotherpipedream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherpipedream/gifts), [nomdeplumeria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomdeplumeria/gifts), [deathsweetqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsweetqueen/gifts).



Bucky rubbed his forehead, “Tell me again Stevie… you need me to be your fake boyfriend, why?”

Steve sighed, his patience obviously waning, and explained again, “So that we can have a public break up. Then I can date Nat publicly without the gossip mags saying I’m cheating on you.”

“Couldn’t I just say that I think your feet stink and I wouldn’t _actually_ date you if my life depended on it?” Bucky countered skeptically. “I just don’t see how us fake-dating so we can break up would make Nat less of a homewrecker and you less of a jerk to the public….” Bucky let his voice trail off, but had to turn away from Steve so his friend wouldn’t see the amused smile he was trying to keep at bay.

“Who’s done more press events than everyone else here other than Tony?” Steve asked.

“Most of those were in 1943, dumbass – the world’s changed a little since then,” Bucky retorted.

“How many press conferences have you done?” Steve challenged smugly.

“None – I’m just sayin’ – ”

Steve folded his arms. “Are you gonna do it or not Buck?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bucky said, “Fine Steve, fine… whatever.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Aaaand that was how Bucky found himself walking down the streets of Paris after taking a macaron-baking class. Yesterday they’d taken a lunch cruise down the Seine, which had been almost nice except that Steve kept trying to hold his hand when people wanted to take pictures. Really, this was the stupidest idea the guy had ever had. _Then again,_ Bucky thought to himself, _I’m the dope who agreed to this shitshow._

When Steve had said the team was going to Paris, Bucky had imagined maybe a long day or two at the Louvre – Steve liked art. A tour of the gardens at Versailles? But no. It’d been **three days** so far of the most cliched couple-y things anyone had ever heard of and he’d had it.

Bucky hadn’t been able to sleep and went for a walk to try and clear his head. Their hotel wasn’t far from the Champs-Elysées and he walked until the sun came up and it was time to meet Sam, Natasha, and Tony for breakfast. He texted Steve to let him know he’d meet them at the café.

He arrived at the café a few minutes late, but frankly, since he was tired, irritable, and angry with himself for ever agreeing to this fake boyfriend madness, Bucky didn’t care. Steve came in for a hug then, and though it was well-meant, it was absolutely the last thing Bucky wanted before he’d even had his first fucking coffee of the day.

Pushing away Steve’s arms, Bucky said, “Just don’t Steve – not now.”

“But Buck –” Steve started.

“I thought I could do this, but I can’t Steve. Just… just find somebody else. I can’t do it anymore,” in his own ears, Bucky’s voice sounded almost desperate.

“If this is about the macarons, I said I was sorry….” Steve sounded so hurt and apologetic.

“This isn’t about the macarons!” he could hear his voice rising and decided to walk away before he said something he’d really regret.

Steve caught Bucky’s wrist – not tight enough to hold him, just to get his attention, “Please Buck, don’t go away mad….”

Bucky twisted away from Steve and stood a few feet away, “When you asked me, I thought I could do it, but I just can’t Stevie – I’m sorry.” _Goddamn, his voice hitched._ He was _not_ going to cry in front of a bunch of strangers. He was just so tired of all the noise and the crowds and small spaces. And maybe he wouldn’t mind holding hands with _somebody_ … but not _Steve_ …. Steve was his best friend and it just felt wrong to pretend like there was more to it than that.

Bucky rubbed his eyes with one hand and studied the pavement. He felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked up to see a small girl wearing a yellow straw hat and blue school uniform offering him a croissant, a concerned expression on her face.

“Merci beaucoup.” _Thank you very much._ He mumbled, feeling embarrassed at having caused such a scene.

The little girl, who couldn’t be more than eight at most, smiled encouragingly and said cheerfully, “De rien, Monsieur Bucky.” _You’re welcome._ She adjusted her hat and walked purposefully back to the bakery next door.

A moment later and a warm cup of coffee was pressed into his hands and Tony led him over to one of the tables closest to the shop and farthest away from everyone else. It was spring, so the chilly morning air kept most of the other customers inside. “You all right?” Tony asked after a moment.

From around a mouthful of croissant, Bucky said, “Yeah,” he swallowed and sipped his coffee, “I’m just sick of pretending to be Steve’s boyfriend.”

“Pretending?” Tony said, surprised. “Looked pretty convincing to me…”

“Must be my superior acting skills,” Bucky smiled into his coffee cup. “Yesterday – ”

Tony whispered conspiratorially, “Be honest – was it the macarons?” His eyes twinkled, entertained.

In a low voice, Bucky hissed, “Yes, it was the macarons! He kept trying to feed them to me.” Bucky looked vaguely disgusted. “He’s my friend – I don’t wanna eat from his fingertips…” and failed to repress a shudder. Tony leaned away a bit, looking thoughtful and Bucky added, hopefully not too hastily, “I mean it’d be different if it was a guy I liked.” He could feel a blush creeping over his cheeks.

Tony moved his own chair a little closer and was about to say something, when a small angry voice started yelling, making them both look back toward where they’d left Steve, Nat, and Sam. The nice schoolgirl who’d given him the croissant was yelling at Steve. Calling him… _whoa_ … Bucky’s mouth dropped open. He’d been in the war and not heard adult men – _soldiers_ – use that kind of language.

Tony murmured, “Does she kiss her mother with that mouth?”

Bucky shrugged, but couldn’t look away either.

French wasn’t Steve’s best language, but to be fair, he probably shouldn’t have tried to talk to her like a kid… even if she was a kid. She kicked him in the shin with her shiny black patent leather shoe and hit him upside the head with the most convenient weapon she had – the baguette she’d just purchased at the bakery.

Too stunned to speak, – or move – Steve put a hand to his head and tried to back away without stumbling into anyone. All he got out was, “Hey!” before the little girl stomped on his foot with her heel and began beating him with the bread, two-handed, as if it were a baseball bat.

Sam and Natasha were absolutely not rushing to Steve’s aid. Sam was recording with his phone and nearly crying with laughter.

The girl was so angry and speaking so rapidly that Bucky could hardly understand her. What he caught in bits and fragments was, “Vous êtes une pomme de terre avec le visage d'un cochon d'inde!” _You are a potato with the face of a guinea pig!_ The girl yelled at the top of her tiny lungs. “Monsieur Bucky a besoin d'amour et de tendresse,” _Mister Bucky needs love and tenderness._ “Et vous l'avez rendu miserable!” _And you made him miserable!_ She shrieked and renewed her blows with a fury Bucky had only ever seen in Steve himself… when he was more than a hundred pounds lighter and almost a foot shorter.

Her first baguette reduced to crumbs, Bucky was surprised to see Natasha hand her another on the sly with an amused smile. Just as polite and charming as she’d been when she’d offered him the croissant, (if slightly hoarse), the girl thanked her with a bright smile, “Merci, Mademoiselle Romanov.”

Natasha smiled beneficently, then ducked back into the bakery, presumably to buy more baguettes. Sam was sitting on the pavement, trying to steady his phone on his knees as he shook with unrestrained laughter.

“Cochon chauvin!” _Chauvinist pig!_ The girl was yelling again, battering Steve with the new loaf of bread.

Unable to resist anymore, over the din, Bucky said, “Hey Stevie – she called you a chauvinist pig! You just gonna take that?”

Tony snickered and took a bite of his own breakfast pastry.

“Some help would be nice, Buck!” Steve bellowed.

Bucky managed to keep a (mostly) straight face as he yelled back, “What do you want me to do Steve? Hit a little girl? She’s defendin’ my honor.”

Bucky immediately hid his grin and chuckle in his coffee cup as the little girl walloped Steve on the shoulder, yelling, “Vous avez le cervau d'un sandwich au fromage et vous sentez le bœuf!” _You have the brains of a cheese sandwich and you smell like beef!_

When he looked up, he saw Tony gazing at him intently. Bucky asked, his smile faltering, “What?”

Tony shook his head, “Just been awhile since I heard you laugh.” He shrugged, “It’s nice.”

Just then a hunk of freshly baked French bread broke off and hurtled toward Tony’s head. Without thinking, Bucky snatched it out of the air, arm stretched over Tony’s shoulder. Bucky blinked and wasn’t quite sure what to do now because it definitely looked like he was doing the yawn and stretch maneuver to put an arm around Tony.

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the café table, Tony held his cup and smiled at Bucky, “Thanks Robocop.” He raised an eyebrow slightly, “You move pretty fast.”

Bucky set the piece of bread on the table, then rested his hand on the corner of Tony’s chair, he shrugged, “Why waste time?” _Thank God he sounded as smooth as he’d hoped to._ Of course, his ears felt like they were on fire and were probably beet red – _thanks a lot, traitors._

Tony opened his mouth to continue flirting, when a tall, very austere nun glided up the sidewalk, stopping next to the schoolgirl. To Steve, as though she was interrupting a private conversation, the nun said, “Pardonnez-moi s'il vous plait monsieur,” then to the little girl, eyebrows raised in exasperated fondness, she said, “J'apprécie votre passion pour la politique mondiale, mais vous êtes allé trop loin.” _I appreciate your passion for global politics, but you’ve gone too far._ The nun continued in her placid, melodious voice, “Présenter ses excuses au Capitaine Rogers et venir à l'école.” _Apologize to Captain Rogers and come to school._

While the nun glided away, the little girl glared at Steve, still panting with rage and exertion. She tucked a strand of red-brown hair behind her ear. An increasing number of pigeons had started to express interest in the quantity of bread crumbs littering the ground. A few of the bolder birds even bobbed and pecked their way around Steve’s feet.

She spat at Steve’s feet and muttered, “Putain.” _Whore._ The schoolgirl stalked away, then ran back a moment later, and still out of breath, but buoyantly cheerful, said, “Au revoir prendre soin Monsieur Bucky!” _Good-bye, take care!_

After she was out of earshot, Bucky said, “Oooh, that was a bad word, Steve. She really doesn’t like you.”

Tony snickered again, his knee deliberately touching Bucky’s as he made eyes at Bucky over the rim of his coffee cup.

Bucky’s eyes wandered over Tony’s lips as he sipped his coffee. Setting the cup down, Bucky licked his lips and smiled, then bit his lip suggestively. Tony winked.

Neither of them noticed Natasha shoo away the pigeons and link her arm in Steve’s. She said, “C’mon Steve. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

That’s all there is. There isn’t any more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @rebelmeg, @justanotherpipedream, and @nomdeplumeria for brainstorming this idea with me on the Winteriron Discord server! Thank you to @deathsweetqueen for her keen knowledge of French cursing and to @Delphyn for their enthusiastic beta skills!
> 
> A big thank you to @feignedsobriquet for their amazing artwork!! :D I can't express how delighted I am! :>
> 
> Any references to a certain French schoolgirl with a yellow hat, an old house in Paris, etc... are purely for parodic purposes. :D 
> 
> Also, my knowledge of French is sketchy, but the translations I used made sense to me. If I've messed it up though, please let me know and I'll fix it!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I did! Feel free to let me know! :D


End file.
